The Bad Touch Trio Troubles
by SickTwistedSmilez
Summary: Spain has been having feelings for a certain Italian nation lately and wants out of his little agreement with Prussia and France. But will it be that easy to let go? And how will Romano react? Bad Touch Trio, Spamano, FrUk, PruHun, and GerIta. Human names used.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

'My place, 8 o'clock. I'm horny ;]'. That was the text that Prussia had sent Spain and France a few minutes ago. France had immediately replied with 'I'll be there, mon amant (my lover)', but Spain wasn't sure he wanted to go. Sure, he loved messing around with those two, and everyone knew they fucked (they don't call them the Bad Touch Trio for nothing). But lately, the Spaniard had been having feelings for a certain hazel-eyed, grumpy Italian nation. Not that Romano knew about it or reciprocated the feelings, but Spain still felt that if he wanted to be in a relationship with him, he would have to tell France and Prussia he didn't want to be their fuck buddy anymore. So, when he decided to go over to Prussia's house, Spain told himself it was just because he wanted to tell them he didn't want to have sex. But France and Prussia weren't buying it.

"Aw, Antonio, don't be like that," Gilbert pouted (they always use human names when messing around or being intimate). "You know we're not serious about all of this. We just do it to have fun and get off."

"Yeah," Francis said. "Why are you changing your mind all of a sudden?"

A blush crept up the Spaniard's tanned neck, turning his face an ironic shade of tomato red. He looked down and mumbled a few things about being more mature now, and Gilbert laughed. "Stop messing around, Antonio. C'mon, let's have a little fun…" The Prussian, who was sitting to the left of Antonio on the couch, placed a hand on the inside of his thigh, rubbing up and down. Antonio would have protested, but Francis had begun to bite and lick at the sensitive place on his collarbone and it felt really good. The brunette felt his resolve quickly slipping, and he thought, _Well, one more time couldn't hurt._ He tilted his head to the side, giving Francis more room to suck at his neck. Gilbert's hand still massaged his inner thigh, teasing him and making him moan for more. The white- haired country gave a wicked grin and straddled Antonio's lap, slowly grinding down. Francis whispered dirty things in his ear as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a toned and tanned chest. The French nation immediately went down and sucked on one of his nipples, rubbing the other. It was almost too much for Antonio.

"Sh-Shit- ngh…Gilbert…Fran-cis….fuck, more…" He grabbed a fistful of Gilbert's hair and forced him into a rough kiss, wanting more than the teasing touches he was getting now. Gil kissed back, slipping his tongue into Antonio's mouth and causing a fight for dominance. Francis, not wanting to be ignored, got behind Antonio and began to make small love bites on his shoulders and upper back in between his shoulder blades. The green-eyed nation let out small, needy whimpers as he tried to press himself against both of his lovers at the same time. "How about we take this into the bedroom," Gilbert purred, smirking. Dazed, Antonio nodded, and Francis picked him up, carrying him bridal style into the Prussian's bedroom. The blonde set the other nation on the bed and crawled on top of him. Gilbert took this opportunity to rid all three of them of their shirts, and then straddled Antonio's chest as Francis undid his pants. "Suck me off." The brunette looked up at him with lustful eyes and unzipped Gilbert's pants, taking out his already hard dick and putting it in his mouth. The Prussian moaned and began to thrust into Antonio's mouth as Francis prepared him. The Frenchman had already stripped off Antonio's pants and was slowly finger-fucking the Spanish uke. Antonio writhed and moaned, still trying to suck off Gilbert. The red-eyed country pulled out of his mouth, not wanting to choke him. Then Francis flipped him over and pushed in without warning. "! Francis, shit!" the brunette hissed, fisting the sheets in his hands. Gilbert got behind the French nation and began to lick out his ass by way of preparing him, and Francis almost came then and there. With Gil's tongue licking around his entrance and Antonio's wet heat around his cock, it was almost too much. But he began to thrust again as Gilbert pulled away and lined himself up, pushing in and groaning. Francis and Gil both stilled for a moment, but then began to thrust at the same pace. The Prussian clutched onto Francis, who was beginning to feel a little overstimulated because of all the pleasure. He soon found Antonio's prostate, and began to hit it over and over. The Spaniard was the first to cum, splattering his seed all over the bed sheets and moaning loudly. As soon as the blonde pulled out, Gilbert shoved him down next to Antonio and began to thrust hard and fast. France could feel himself nearing his climax. "Gilbert! Baise! (fuck)" He slumped down right after, feeling Gil fill has ass with cum. Antonio was already half asleep, so Gilbert spooned him from one side and Francis cuddled him from the other. The brunette sighed as he drifted into unconsciousness. Maybe the Bad Touch Trio could stay together for a little longer….


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: (ha I remembered it!) I don't own these babies, but if I did I definitely would keep them! **

When Spain awoke, he noticed that both France and Prussia were already awake and downstairs. He looked around for his clothes, but they were nowhere in sight so he settled for stealing a pair of clean boxers from Prussia and a grabbing a crumpled white shirt from the floor, making a half-assed attempt at buttoning it. Then the Spanish country followed the smell of pastries to the kitchen, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. France stood by the oven, checking on the delicious French pastries he'd been making for breakfast. Prussia sat at the table with his brother Germany and Italy, who was ignoring the breakfast pastry set in front of him and going straight for the pasta. Prussia smirked when he saw that Spain was wearing his clothes and pushed back from the table, motioning for him to sit on his lap. The brunette complied, ignoring the glares he was getting from Germany. Spain leaned back into Prussia, nibbling on a homemade French Crueler and wondering how much Germany had heard from last night. That's when Italy decided to speak up.

"Ve~ Big Brother Spain! I heard some funny noises from where you and France and Prussia where sleeping! What were you doing in there?"

Spain let out a small strangled noise. "You-you heard us?" He'd forgotten that the Italian often spent the night with Germany. Prussia chuckled at the blush that spread across Spain's face as Germany glared. "Ja, ve _both_ heard, und ve didn't get much sleep because of it."

"Ah, lighten up West!" Prussia said with a laugh. "We were just having a little fun." Italy still didn't quite understand what kind of 'fun' they'd been having, but no one would explain it to him so he shrugged and ate more pasta. Spain wondered if Germany and Italy were in a relationship yet. It was pretty obvious they had feelings for each other, and it's not like being gay or bisexual was frowned upon.

"Oh, by the way bruder, in case you've forgotten, the World Meeting starts at one o'clock today," Germany said, taking a bite of pastry. Spain froze. A World Meeting? He'd totally forgotten! The brunette glanced at the clock. It was almost 11:30; no way he'd have enough time to go all the way back to his house, shower, and then go all the way back to the World Meeting. He groaned and climbed off of Prussia's lap. "Can I use your shower?" Prussia nodded and showed him the way, winking and slapping his ass before leaving him alone. Vaguely, the Spanish nation wondered if he had cameras in the bathroom so he could watch him shower, but shook the idea off as he turned on the water. He stripped off what little clothes he had on, sighing as he stepped into the warm water and let it flow over him. Not for the first time, he wondered if what he was doing was right. Sure, they all had fun fucking and pretending they were lovers, but Spain wanted _more_. He wanted someone to care for him and love him. He wanted Romano. He had been chasing after the stubborn Italian nation for years, but was it possible the younger country could actually have feelings for him?

The Spaniard's thoughts were interrupted by his phone buzzing erratically on the bathroom counter where he left it. At first he ignored it, lathering shampoo into his thick dark hair and washing it out. But then whoever was texting him gave up on texting and called instead. Spain knew immediately who it was; he had a separate ringtone for each of the countries. The tomato-loving country refrained from dancing to Shakira's "Hips Don't Lie" and stepped out of the shower, shivering and grabbing a towel before answering and making the obnoxious music stop. "Hola, Lovino!"

"Oi, bastard!" an irritated voice grumbled over the phone. "What the hell did you do?!"

Spain blinked in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Feliciano just called me and asked if I knew what kind of 'fun' you were having with those idiotas last night!" Romano growled. "Now he wants to experience that 'fun' with the potato bastard! Why the fuck were you having sex while il mio fratellino (my little brother) was in the house?!"

"We didn't _know_ he was listening in!" Spain hissed. "It's not like we meant to! And it's not all my fault!"

"Sure," Romano sneered, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. "The Bad Touch Trio strikes again, right?" then the Italian slammed down the phone, not even giving Spain a chance to respond. The Spaniard gritted his teeth, throwing his cell down, drying himself off and getting dressed in a clean uniform. Why was Romano being so protective of Italy lately? It's not like the innocent nation wouldn't learn about sex eventually. And from the way he kept looking at Germany, he'd be experiencing it soon too. Spain sighed. Why did Romano have to be so rude and overbearing all of the time?! All that Italian bitch was succeeding in was making the only person that really cared about him besides his brother angry at him. Someday Romano would really piss off everyone who cares about him, and then he'd be alone….forever.

**Spain: *glomps Romano* ah, I'm sorry! I would never call you a bitch, mi tomate pequeño!**

**Romano: *glares at me* look what you did!**

**Me: *squeals because Spamano and dodges flying tomatoes* **

**Romano: and the next chapter better be in my point of view!**

**Me: It will be! Expect an update tomorrow! :3**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own these cuties :]**

**Also, everything in another language on here is from Google Translate, so if I got it wrong then please tell me and I can fix it. Thanks!**

Romano slammed the phone down, not giving that stupid Spanish bastard any time to reply. He knew he needed to get ready for the World Meeting, but right now he wasn't feeling like doing anything but moping around and eating pizza. But of course that would remind him of the tomato bastard he was trying so desperately to forget! Romano leaned against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. Didn't that idiota remember? Didn't he _care_? It seemed Romano was the only one that remembered. Today was the anniversary of Spain becoming Romano's boss. The real reason he had called Spain was to see if he remembered. Sure, he was a little pissed that his brother had listened to France, Prussia, and Spain go at it, but now he just wanted to punch that bastard in the face for being so uncaring.

"Dammit!" Romano half sobbed, wanting to beat his fists against Spain's chest like he used to when he was a chibi. "Dammit, dammit, dammit! Spain, you bastard! You dummy….dummy, dummy, dummy Spain! Chigi…" Romano sniffed, trying to pull himself together. Why did he care so much about that bastard anyway? He didn't need Spain, and it was clear Spain didn't need him. Why was he stressing so much over this? _It was only one stupid day,_ Romano told himself. _It doesn't matter…._ But somehow it mattered the most.

"Ti odio così tanto….Odio il modo in cui mi fai sentire…Bastardo! Bastardo Spagna! Ti odio! Ti odio così tanto! Questo è tutta colpa tua!(I hate you so much….I hate the way you make me feel…Bastard! Bastard Spain! I hate you! I hate you so much! This is all your fault!)" Romano sobbed, hating himself for falling apart so easily for Spain. He had never, in all the years he had been a country, let anyone affect him this way. What if Spain left? What if he left Romano alone and scared just like when he was a chibi in that big, stupid mansion? What if he loved Feliciano more than him, just like he'd always thought? Romano trembled at that thought. Everyone loved his brother more than him, why shouldn't Spain? _Feliciano's so perfect, he's so hard-working and nice….look Romano, look at how fucking perfect he is…why can't you be more like your brother? _Romano remembered a quote he'd read once, something about how people build up walls just to see who will care enough to break them down. _Looks like no one cares enough to break down mine…_

**~yay page break~**

Feliciano was starting to get a little worried. It was almost 2 o'clock and Romano had not shown up to the World Meeting yet. They had waited for him, but even the countries that were usually really late (himself included) had arrived a long time ago. Italy was really the only one that was all the concerned; everyone else was just annoyed. After all, it was commonly know that the eldest Italian country played by his own rules.

"Doitsu, what if nii-san is hurt?" Italy asked, big, concerned eyes looking up at the German. "He could need our help!"

"Ah, that lazy ass is probably just taking a nap," France said with a small yawn. "Isn't that what you Italians are known for?"

"Hey, you leave Roma alone!" Belgium said angrily. "I'm sure he didn't mean to be late!"

"Perhaps he is dead," Russia suggested innocently.

"America, maybe we _should_ start without him," Japan said as politely as he could. Even England was starting to get a little annoyed. "Bloody hell America, let's just start the World Meeting without him!"

America was about to respond when the door to the conference room slammed open and in walked Romano. The Italian looked even more tired and angry than usual. "FRATELLO!" Italy cried, launching himself out of his seat and jumping on his brother. "Where were you? We were all so worried!" Romano seriously doubted that, but right now he just wanted to be alone. "Vaffanculo, idiota! (fuck you, idiot!) Get off!" the grumpy Italian growled, shoving his brother off. "Cazzo, perchè non puoi lasciarmi in pace? (Fuck, why can't you just leave me alone?)" Then Romano sat down in between the two countries he figured would give him the least trouble: Greece and Japan. Greece was already asleep, and Japan was too polite to say anything.

Italy sat back down next to Germany, his happiness slightly deflated by his brother's harsh words. Romano was always mean and rude to everyone, but today he was especially angry and mean. Maybe it was because of Spain…Usually the little Italian was pretty forgetful, but even _he_ remembered that today was the anniversary of Spain becoming Romano's boss. _Ve~ no wonder fratello is so upset, with Big Brother Spain forgetting a special day like this! I'll just have to have Spain cheer him up! _ So Italy texted the Spaniard discreetly, reminding him of what day it was and telling him to talk to Romano. When he received the text, Spain mentally kicked himself. No wonder Romano was unusually angry! He made a mental note to talk to the Italian after the meeting and apologize for forgetting. But Prussia and France approached him before he got the chance and asked him if he wanted to go out drinking. Spain immediately agreed and they went out, forgetting all about the little grumpy Italian.

"Spain, you bastard," Romano whispered, watching him leave. "You stupid bastard…." Then he turned and left as quickly as possible so no one would see the tears pooling in his honey-colored eyes.

**Romano: ah, why did you make me all sensitive and whiny, you bastard?**

**Me: ….I have no regrets **


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own them! **

**I decided to make you guys wait a little to find out what happens with our little grumpy Italian, so here's a nice FrUk chapter. Enjoy :]. **

"Angleterre!" France called, jogging to catch up with England as he walked out of the World Meeting. "We were just about to go out for drinks. You should come!"

"Not if I was paid," the Brit growled, trying to step around France, who was blocking his way. "Get out of my way, you bloody frog!"

"Aw, don't be like that, _mon petit lapin_," the Frenchman purred. "Besides, Prussia, Spain, America, Russia, and Canada will be there too!"

England frowned. "Who?"

France sighed. "Nevermind. But really, you should come! It wouldn't be nearly as fun without my little angleterre~. You could just come for one beer….or have a glass of wine with me back at my place." The Frenchman winked, and England balked. "Not a chance!" He would have protested more, but then France hooked an arm through his and dragged him away. They passed a very pissed off Romano, and France would have asked him to come, but he looked positively_ livid_ and not to be messed with, so he left him alone. Then they all headed down to a bar that Prussia said had really good, authentic German beer. The Prussian bought them all their first round of drinks and they sat down to watch a game of football (European football, not American football). At first, Canada sat in the corner by himself and watched a hockey game, but strangely enough the drunker the other countries got, the better they could see Canada. So after a couple of beers, America waved the Canadian over and they all had fun getting totally smashed. All except for Russia, who can hold his alcohol extremely well.

England, however, was doing horribly. After his first round of shots he was slurring, after his second he was flirting with France, and by the third round he was up on a table singing Lucy Spraggen's "Last Night". France laughed and sipped some wine, mindful of how much he was drinking. His plan was to get the Brit completely smashed and bring him back to his mansion so he could have his way with him. Sure, England would be angry with him the next morning, but it would be worth it.

When England when for his fourth round of Kamikaze shots and was dangerously close to falling over, France knew it was time to get him home.

"Ah, mon chèrie, I think it's time you went home, no?" the Frenchman said lowly, putting his arm around England's waist. The Brit nodded, his head lolling a bit. "Are you…you gonna take me home, France?"

"Of course! I wouldn't just leave you here all by yourself, drunk and alone!" France exclaimed.

"Actually, I think I'm sober enough to- ok, never mind," America said, backing off when the Frenchman gave him a death glare. Francis had one arm around the bushy-browed Brit's waist and the other he used to guide them out of the bar and back to his car. Only when they arrived back at France's mansion did England question him.

"Oi, you, you wanker, this isn't my house," he said, swaying a little. France chuckled. "Ohonhonhon~ I know….Don't worry, I'm going to take good care of you, angleterre." England glared at him. "You pervert! Take me…home. Yeah, home!" France just chuckled again and led him inside and up to his bedroom. The Brit walked drunkenly up the stairs, and then realized where exactly they were. "You frog! Why're we…in your bedroom!?" He tried to push the blonde away, but to no avail. "I know you wanna….wanna do naughty things to me Francis…but…just let me go! I know you're tryna get in m' pants, but it's not gonna work you, you wanker…" England poked him in the chest, trying to be serious, which only made France laugh more as he shut and locked the door so they wouldn't be disturbed. England flopped down on the bed, complaining about how hot it was in there. He tugged on his tie, fumbling with his disheveled dress shirt (his jacket had been abandoned long ago). France crawled on top of him and unbuttoned it for him, smiling. "Si jolie, mon amour…." (so pretty, my love). Arthur gave a scowl in return, weakly pushing at him. "Get off me, you git!"

"Shh, angleterre…I'm going to make you feel good, I promise." France leaned down, capturing the Brit's lips in a soft kiss, and after a moment he felt him kiss back. A small sigh escaped his lips as he eagerly kissed the uke beneath him. Francis had wanted England so badly for so long, and sure, sex would be great, but for now he was content with ravishing his incredibly soft lips. His original goal was to get England to have sex with him, but now….Now he knew he loved the bushy-browed Englishman too much to do that to him. It wouldn't be fair to take him like this. Francis wanted his first time with Arthur to be consensual and completely sober (ok, _mostly _sober). But that didn't mean they couldn't have a little fun in the meantime.

Francis began to kiss lower, nibbling at Arthur's neck and enjoying the little moans he drew from him. The green-eyed uke began writhing around a little, already aroused. Francis chuckled, knowing that a drunk Arthur equals a horny Arthur. His hands wandered over the Brit's body, feeling him up a little. And, of course, Francis couldn't help but grope at his cute ass a little bit. England looked up at Francis, green eyes wide and mouth slightly open and panting. "Ah- s-stop grabbing my arse, you p-pervert!" Francis chuckled. "Your mouth says no but your body says yes~" he slid down to the end of the bed, pulling Arthur with him until he could kneel between his legs on the floor. Then he held down Arthur's hips with his arm, unzipping his pants with his right hand. At this point, England was too far gone to protest. He bucked his hips up needily, wanting to get some friction. France slipped down the Brit's pants and boxers, smiling when he saw how hard the uke was. Moaning softly, Britain grabbed a fistful of France's blonde locks and pushed his head towards his cock. Francis wasted no time in taking the head of his dick in his mouth, softly sucking. Arthur moaned loudly and forced him to take in more, and the Frenchman did; deep-throating the Brit's cock. "Ngh…F-Francis…shit- ah! Fran-cis…" France loved hearing people moan his name, and no offense to Antonio and Gilbert, but Arthur's voice sounded much sexier.

Arthur soon reached his climax, and came hard into France's mouth, moaning like a porn star. But after everything that had happened, with his drunken state and his mind- blowing orgasm, the Brit simply passed out after climaxing. Francis sighed; he'd been hoping to get off too, but his angleterre was much more important than getting off. He lay down beside the green-eyed nation and cuddled him, soon falling asleep next to his new lover.

**Romano: what about me? *pouting* **

**Me: shoooosh, next chapter bby **


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

**Hello there! This chapter is mostly dealing with Romano's feelings, but it also has FrUk at the end. I've finally gotten over being sick, so hopefully these next chapters aren't going to be as crappy as the ones before! Enjoy :]. Oh, and I don't own them :3**

After Romano was finally able to escape that stupid building with all those stupid countries with all their stupid, unimportant problems, he got into his car and just drove. He knew he was abandoning his brother, but he was so pissed right now he couldn't bring himself to care. How dare Spain! How dare he toy with Romano's feelings like that? How dare he bring him to tears so easily and just walk away? _I hope that bastard burns in hell,_ Romano thought, hands shaking so badly he could barely drive. He didn't even know where he was going; he just knew it was far away. No one really understood him. Everyone just thought he was angry all the time without a reason. No, it was more than that. Romano's anger came from a big pool of hate inside of him that he had had for so long it became a part of him. It was fueled by his loneliness from being abandoned, his distrust of other people, and all the times he'd been close to have a true friend only to have them snatched away. Over the years, he'd learned to build up walls he was sure no one could ever break down. Every time he felt sad or was rejected he just built them higher. Grandpa Rome abandons him but takes Feliciano? Another layer of stone around his heart. The other countries bully him? Another layer. Feliciano cares more about the Holy Roman Empire and that potato bastard than him? Yet another. But every time Romano built up the walls around his heart, he got lonelier. Sure, it prevented his heart from being broken- but how can you break something that's already been shattered? Then along came Spain.

Romano hated him more than anyone else. He just _knew_ that the only reason the Spaniard wanted him was for his inheritance. But more than anything, the Italian was scared of him. Scared because Spain actually wanted to get to know him. Scared because he had the _audacity _to break down the walls Romano was trying so hard to keep up. Spain wanted to get close to him, but he wanted nothing to do with that bastard. Then Spain left him alone for the first time. That had been the worst experience in the young country's life. He hadn't pissed himself because he couldn't find a bathroom. He'd pissed himself because he was alone in a big, unfamiliar place and the one person he knew had left him there. Romano was terrified and alone and not even Spain could help him. And he had wanted to help clean and cook and do other chores, but he was scared of messing it up and having Spain reject him. Even then he was dependent on the Spaniard. Even then that bastard had managed to enthrall him and get close to him. Slowly, he had allowed Spain to break down his walls. Slowly but surely, Romano let him into his life. And he wasn't scared anymore. But then Romano realized his true feelings for his caretaker, feelings of love and passion he shouldn't have been having. That terrified him even more than being left alone, because what if Spain found out and hated him? No…he couldn't let that happen. So he ignored the feelings. Now that Romano wasn't under his care anymore, it was easier, but that dumb bastard just wouldn't let him go. He kept toying with his feelings and Romano hated it, hated him for making him feel these things again and again even after how hard he'd tried to deny them. Tonight had been the final straw. Romano had been ignored for the last time. He wouldn't let Spain toy with him anymore. He was going to lock his heart away and throw away the key. No more. No more being stepped on and chasing after someone that can't love him back. No more loving Spain. This was the only way Romano could live with himself.

He pulled over to the side of the abandoned country road he was driving on, stopping the car and shutting it off. Romano buried his head in his arms, wanting to fall apart just one last time. Why did it have to be this way? Why did it _always_ have to be this way? His shoulders shook with the force of his crying as he sobbed into the steering wheel of his car. He was so wrapped up in his own feelings that he barely heard the tap on his window.

"Hey, dude! Need a hand from the hero?"

**~yay page break~**

England groaned a little as his eyes fluttered open. His head was pounding, and he felt like throwing up. At first the Brit couldn't remember what had happened the night before, but slowly the memories flooded back. He'd gone to the bar for some drinks….had some shots….sang some karaoke (boy did he regret _that_). Then France had taken him back to his mansion and they had- "BLOODY HELL!" England bolted upright in bed, suddenly remembering. "Dammit! You frog! I-I can't believe you!" he immediately regretted sitting up so quickly and yelling, for it brought on a massive headache, but at least it woke France up. "Angleterre, let me explain-"

"AM I NAKED? ARE YOU NAKED? _ARE WE NAKED?_ TOGETHER? IN ONE BED? AM I SLEEPING IN CUM? YOU PERVERT, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WOULD-" France silenced him with a kiss, which England immediately rejected, cheeks flushing. "How dare you…!"

"Angleterre, calm down," France said calmly. "Look, we didn't have sex…. I want us to be sober for our first time."

England's cheeks colored even redder, if that was possible. "As if I would be with you!" he scoffed, getting out of bed and wincing at his headache. France got up too, going over to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "England…._Arthur_…. Je t'aime…Je t'aime tellement…I love you so much…. I would be honored if you would be with me. I promise I will always treat you right. I have loved you for so long, and now that I'm telling you I hope you will accept me." England cast his eyes down, mumbling about how he knows France was lying, but still slightly swayed by his passionate words. The Frenchman grabbed his chin and tilted it upwards, meeting his lips in a soft, passionate kiss. Arthur rejected it at first, but soon found himself melting into France's embrace. But after the need for air became apparent and they pulled apart, he still had his doubts.

"Even if I do like you…And I'm not saying that I do! But if I did….how do I know you won't fuck me and leave me?"

"Chéri, if that's all I wanted I would have done that last night," France said with a chuckle. England bit his lip. "I-I'm not ready for this…I just don't know…."

"It's ok," France murmured, still holding the smaller country. "Take all the time you need. I'll still love you no matter what you decide. For now, how about a little tea for your headache?" England nodded, shuffling along behind France to go down to the kitchen to get tea. This was all so sudden; he didn't know what to do. He'd hated that frog for centuries….But now…..Could he possibly love the man he had sworn to hate?

**France: *glomps* of course you love me!**

**England: bloody frog *pouting* **

**Me: stop whining *eating Nutella* it was either that or put you with Alfred**

**England: ….is that still an option?**

**Me: *smacks him***

**France: *smacks him***

**All FrUk shippers: *smacks him***


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

**Well, this one's got a kind of strange pairing in it, but I've actually read some good fics with these two so I think it works. Also, no more FrUk for this chapter but next chapter there will be. And I don't own them! Enjoy :]**

Romano bolted upright, honey eyes bloodshot from crying. "B-bastard! What are you doing here?"

America raised his eyebrows, bending down so he could peer into the open window at the Italian. "Do you not know where you are?"

Romano furiously wiped at his eyes, trying to disguise that he'd been crying but massively failing. "No…I was just driving….It's none of your business, idiota!"

"Actually, it kinda is, 'cause we're about 10 miles from my house and this is my property….But don't worry, when I saw you I immediately knew somethin' was wrong and I was like, well, what would a hero do? Help you, of course! So what seems to be the problem, Romano dude?" America grinned at him, and Romano sighed, unlocking the door so he could get into the passenger seat. The Italian knew the eccentric country wouldn't leave him alone until he was convinced he'd helped, so Romano just indulged him for now. "So….what's the problem?" America asked again, a little more serious now. "Is it because of Spain?"

Romano balked. "How did you know about that?!"

"It's not too hard to figure out, dude," the American said, fishing a hamburger out of his jacket pocket and taking a bite. "Plus, your brother told me about how he kinda ignored you today, so…."

"My brother needs to learn to keep his damn mouth shut," Romano growled, still gripping the steering wheel tightly and refusing to look at the American. "Anyways, I'm _fine_."

America cocked his head to the side. "Mmm, you don't look fine. How about a hamburger? Those always cheer me up!"

"I don't want your fucking hamburger!" Romano exclaimed, wanting to cry again but knowing he couldn't while the American was there. "Now get out of my car and leave me the fuck alone!"

"Ah, I'm afraid I can't do that," the blue-eyed country said, shoving the rest of the hamburger he'd been eating in his mouth and swallowing. "I have to help you out and fulfill my duties as a hero! So it _is_ Spain that's upset you, isn't it?" Romano gripped the wheel even tighter if that was possible; he was growing impatient. "If I say yes will you leave me alone?"

America leaned back in his seat. "Mmm, not yet. You know, I can kinda relate…."

"How could _you_ possibly relate to my situation?" the Italian spat almost hatefully.

"Why, 'cause I'm fat and stupid and couldn't possibly have the capacity to love?"

"I-I didn't mean-"

"Don't worry, it's what everyone thinks." The American let out a small sigh, uncharacteristically serious. "…I know what it's like to love someone you can't have…."

"And what would make you think I'm in love with someone I can't have? You mean the tomato bastard, don't you? Why are you so convinced that I'm in love with him?" Romano asked angrily.

"'Cause….Because I can see it….the way you look at him like he's perfect but he won't even spare you a glance….And the way you got so upset over this minor thing today….I know what that feels like, Romano." America looked sideways at the now silent nation. "…I really do…."

"….Who is it, then? Who do you love that you can't have?" America looked up at Romano with an almost guilty expression. "Promise you won't tell?"

Romano gave a small sigh. "I promise. Who would I tell, anyway?"

"It's….Mathew…er, Canada. You know…my kind-of-not-really brother." The American looked at Romano guiltily, waiting for his reaction. The other country had few memories of the small boy with a bouncy blonde hair curl and a polar bear but still knew who he was talking about. "He's my brother, you know? And….I mean, I feel bad for not noticing him sometimes, but when I do it's like….fuck….I-I just love him more than a brother should, and I know it's wrong but-"

"It's not wrong," Romano murmured. "Just….you should kinda scope out how he feels before telling him how you feel…" He stopped for a moment. Was he actually giving this annoying prick advice about having an incestual relationship with his brother? Romano shook his head. Fuck, this was all so messed up…

America sighed. "Yeah….I-I guess it's stupid to think he could like me back…thanks anyway. It's not very heroic of me to be taking advice from you while you're the one in need, eh? I guess I should just leave you alone now…." He started to get out of the car, but a hand on his arm stopped him. Romano looked up at the larger country, eyes shining with unspoken need…and something else. Romano could now recognize how similar they were; it was just that America hid his loneliness by making friends, while Romano hid it by driving everyone away. They both radiated with the unspoken need for companionship, for the love they could never hope to have. They didn't need words; for once, both countries understood each other without spoken consent. America looked at Romano with one question in his eyes. _Are you sure?_

_I'm sure, Alfred, _came the silent response. The American laced his fingers through Lovino's and gave his hand a squeeze as he lead the Italian into the backseat where they would have more room. Lovino willingly laid down across the seat, accepting Alfred into his arms and melting into his body. Slowly, lovingly, the American kissed him, slipping his tongue into the uke's mouth. Lovino sucked on the invading tongue, tasting Alfred's sweet texture. He tasted of coke and hamburgers and freedom, if someone can actually taste like freedom. Beneath Alfred, Lovino tasted of honey and wine and something sweet he couldn't quite place. Their panting breath had started to fog up the American's glasses, so Lovino removed them for him and set them in a safe place. Eyes fluttering closed, Alfred indulged in their kiss for several more minutes, letting out little breathy moans. "Mmm…ah- hnn…"

Lovino sighed as Alfred kissed lower, unbuttoning his shirt. _You can moan _his _name if you want…._

_No….tonight, we _both_ get loved…._Lovino fisted his hands in the American's soft blonde hair as he kissed ever lower, shedding both of their clothes until they were naked and pressing needily against each other. Lovino sucked eagerly on Alfred's fingers, coating them with saliva before spreading his legs as wide as they would go in the tight space and allowing the American to prepare him. Alfred did so slowly and sensually, drinking up the soft moans of pleasure he drew from his uke. Then he slicked up his own cock and positioned it at Lovino's entrance, looking into the Italian's honey eyes and asking for permission. The uke nodded, and sighed in pleasure as Alfred slipped inside his tight hole and filled him up. Lovino didn't need long to adjust, and he held on to the sapphire-eyed man's shoulders as he thrusted inside him.

"Mmm…Alfred….Alfred- h-ah…..ngh…." Lovino allowed himself to release every breathy moan; he trusted Al completely. Finally….finally, they both had the love, closeness, and intimacy they'd craved for so long. It didn't take long for either of them to finish, Lovino over their stomachs and Alfred inside him. Then they both curled up after Al pulled out, with the American's bomber jacket as their only cover, sharing each other's warmth and finally, _finally _feeling loved.

**Whew! That was wild from start to finish! It was interesting to write an America x Romano, but kinda fun XD. Anyway, for those of you that don't like America x Canada don't worry, it's not going to be a major pairing. Also, was the lemon kinda weird…? Idk, maybe it was too OOC….but if you can review and tell me what you thought that would be much appreciated :3. Also, I started spacing my stuff differently and shit because I thought the centered text looked too weird so if it looks worse this way tell me and I'll change it back.**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

**It's taken me a couple days, but I finally got this chapter done! Phew! And dang, I'm just having all these Romano feels. *sweats* Anyway, here's chapter seven. Enjoy :]. And I don't own these babies!**

Italy was starting to worry about his brother. He'd seen Romano take off in the direction of America's house after the whole Spain fiasco (why America's house, he didn't know). Italy had driven himself home, but after the oldest Italian didn't return home after several hours, he _really_ began to worry. What if Roma was dead? What if he'd done something rash and had hurt himself? This whole predicament had really upset Romano, and now Italy was certain he'd gone and done something awful. He could be passed out or dead in a ditch! The little Italian's hair curl bounced in anticipation as he lept up from his couch and grabbed the keys to his Fiat, overcome with concern. He quickly sped off towards the conference building, and then in the direction he'd seen Romano drive off in. Italy really hoped his brother was ok.

The road from the conference building was straight and didn't have any turns, so Italy was sure he was going down the same path Romano had. Gradually, the street changed into a country road paved with dirt instead of concrete. On the shoulder of the road he saw his brother's yellow Fiat 500x parked, and just behind it was a bright red Ford F-150- clearly America's car. Italy stopped the car and hopped out, going over to peer inside America's truck window first. The keys were still in the ignition, and a half-eaten hamburger lay of the seat. _Weird…._

Then the youngest Italian slowly approached his brother's car, afraid he would see both countries lying inside with their throats slit or something equally as horrible. What he saw instead shocked him more than their murders would have.

America lay mostly on top of Romano, covering the smaller nation, with only his bomber jacket to cover himself. Both of them were naked and covered in dried cum and sweat; clearly they'd been doing more than just cuddling. Italy turned away, feeling sick. What about Big Brother Spain? Clearly America had just been a rebound for Romano. But did Italy have the right to tell the Spaniard what he'd seen? He wanted to, because he knew how much they both cared for each other and wanted them to get together, but Romano would be really pissed at Italy if he knew he'd told Spain. Of course, Romano knew that Spain fucked with Prussia and France, so why couldn't Spain know that Romano had fucked with America? Italy bit his lip, wrestling with his thoughts. Finally, he reached through the open front window of the yellow Fiat and grabbed his brother's phone, accessing the camera feature and snapping a quick photo of the sleeping nations before sending it to Spain. Then he put the phone back and raced back to his car, speeding to Germany's house and making it there in record time. He slipped into bed with the German, snuggling into his strong chest. _They'll never even know it was me,_ he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

**~page break~ ~page break~ ~page break~ ~page break~ ~page break~ ~page break~ **

France reclined on the couch next to his (hopefully) new boyfriend England, who was drinking tea and ignoring all of the Frenchman's advances and pleas to cuddle. France was still unsure where his relationship with the Brit stood, but he hadn't thrown up or run away yet, so that was a good sign.

France's phone rang, and at first he ignored it (with the ringtone being "Loca" by Shakira, he knew it was Spain). But it kept ringing and ringing; the Spaniard was relentless. Clearly something was wrong, but France was just so lazy to answer. Finally England spoke up from where he sat as far away from France as possible. "Just answer the bloody phone! I'm going to make some more tea." The Brit got up and went into the kitchen as France answered. He was immediately bombarded with yelling on the other line.

"DID YOU KNOW? DID YOU?! I CAN'T BELIEVE LOVI WOULD GO AND DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS AND THEN TAKE A PICTURE AND SEND IT TO ME JUST TO TAUNT ME! IT'S SICK! IT'S VILE! I'M GOING TO KILL THAT AMERCIAN BASTARD! ¡EL ESTÁ _TAN_ MUERTA! ¡SÓLO TIENE QUE ESPERAR HASTA QUE ME PONGA LAS MANOS ENCIMA DE ÉL-" (He is _so_ dead! Just wait until I get my hands on him-"

"Whoa! Slow down, mon ami! What are you talking about?"

"This!" France glanced at the photo Spain had just sent him and raised his eyebrows. "Merde! Looks like Romano and America have been having a little fun together, no?"

"I can't believe Romano would do this!" Spain fumed. "A one-night stand in the back of his car with that American?! He can't just go out and do stuff like that! He just can't! I won't allow it!"

"You cannot treat Roma like a piece of property, mon ami, he is not even your boyfriend! He is not yours to command around. He can do what he wants," France said gently, knowing it was rough for the Spaniard to see the man he loves with someone else. "You need to tell him how you feel if you truly want to be in a relationship with him."

Spain was silent for a moment, and then sighed. "You're right….I've been stupid about all of this….but why would Romano send me a picture like that?! Now he'll just laugh in my face if I try to tell him how I feel! He must hate me…"

"Ah, I would not be so quick to write him off," France said with a chuckle. "After all, my angleterre did not reject me, and I was almost certain he would!"

"WHAT ARE YOU SAYING ABOUT ME, YOU GIT?!" England yelled from the kitchen.

"All good things, mon amour~" France called back.

"So you're with England, huh?" Spain asked, momentarily forgetting a about his problem with Romano. "How's that going?"

"Ah…I'm unsure," France said, putting Spain on speakerphone and setting the phone down so he could tie his hair back. "He has not rejected me, but he has not exactly welcomed my advances either." France lowered his voice so the Brit wouldn't be able to hear. "I am afraid that he will not be able to get over the centuries of hate we have had for each other."

"Don't worry Francis, if he cares about you I'm sure he'll tell you soon. If not, you'll find someone better." Spain sighed. "I'd better go talk to Romano…."

"Oui. Tell me if it works out or not. If not, I might want to take a shot at tapping that ass, as America would say. Ohonhonhon~"

"Francis!"

"Just kidding! Good luck!"

"Good luck to you too, amigo."

**Will Romano end up with Spain or America, or neither? *aggressive mysterious eye brow wiggle* Stay tuned to find out. Also, if I made any mistakes language- wise, blame Google translate :3. **


End file.
